


Obtest, Obvert, Obtain

by ibreathethroughwords



Series: Don’t [2]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars: Rebels
Genre: Alien Space Cult, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Crack Treated Seriously, Fuck canon: I do what I want, Kissing, M/M, Military Conspiracy, Political conspiracy, Season 4: It Never Happened Edition, Secret Relationship, sex in a temple, unprotected sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-09
Updated: 2018-05-13
Packaged: 2019-03-28 22:12:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,890
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13913226
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ibreathethroughwords/pseuds/ibreathethroughwords
Summary: Thrawn's presence was quickly obvious, though Kallus couldn’t yet see where he was in the room. His lover — ex-lover — filled up a room with his presence like he was born to command the galaxy. It was the same as every other time they’d been in a room together. Even with Vader present, Thrawn's aura of command authority drew attention and nearly upstaged his commander’s — despite said CO being a Sith Lord."You shouldn’t be here." Kallus scolded him, voice quiet, but firm in his anger. "Not after Lothal."-Several months after the rendezvous on Qenarth, Thrawn and Kallus meet again in another temple, with very different company.Continuation ofDebate, Desecrate, Diverge





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Why do you guys keep encouraging me? So, I understand that Filoni made Some Decisions. I quite enjoyed many of them: that said, I’m also going to continue ignoring _literally all of them_ unless it suits my purposes. This is what I have been for all of season 4 for this fic so uh... no changes. Sorry, Dave. Take your purgill and get fucked. There’s probably a fic for that already.

It was a rare situation, Kallus was certain, to find representatives of both sides of what was shaping up to be another full-scale galactic civil war calmly and peacefully residing in the same building — let alone on the same planet — for two weeks of discussions with the planet's leadership. An attempt at making peace between sides it was not: not after Lothal. Not after Jedha, or Scarif. Not after the Death Star, Alderaan, Yavin IV, or the dissolution of the Senate. 

But perhaps cooperation between certain rogue factions could be had.

Not all Imperial leadership was happy with the Emperor. According to the envoy that had come to meet with them here, military discontentment was at a record high, worse than it had ever been during the war with the Separatists.

The way Vader's helmet had lingered on Rex when he had admitted to that fact had made Kallus uncomfortable, though he couldn’t put his finger on why.

It was only the end of the first day of their stay in what he had been informed was an ancient temple used by those who still followed select teachings of the Force. Kallus would almost be inclined to classify it as a cult were he still in the ISB and working in Investigations. Many of the planet’s top government officials were involved in what was treated as a religion, and the citizens both feared and worshipped those who lead the believers. Despite the sense of nervous appreciation from the general populace outside and far below, the aura about the was certainly of the same type Jedi temples possessed — though those were usually not so ornate as this according to Lord Vader — and the atmosphere was decidedly calming. With Thrawn at the table, that was for the best. Kallus’s lover had done his job and taken so much from the only friends Kallus had left. They had been made to suffer and were still hurting. Kallus was still hurting because of him.

 _So why,_ he wondered, leaning over a marble balcony to better examine the ornate ceiling of the main floor, _do I desperately want to seek him out?_

His eyes roamed over the intricately fitted tiles: gold combined together with shades of emerald, violet, the deep blue of the oceans of so many planets, and vermillion formed shapes of snake-like creatures and humanoids next to them at some points. At other points, the shapes combined to make a geometric pattern. It was interrupted in several places, particularly by large marble pillars that would be perfect for a rendezvous with Thrawn. His lover would easily be able to pick him up and fuck him against—

 _No!_ he scolded himself. _You know better._

It would cause too much grief if he did it. Giving in to his own wants and needs would be disastrous this time. He hadn’t seen Thrawn since their rendezvous on Qenarth. If he had known Thrawn was coming, he would have fully disclosed the semi-ongoing relationship to High Command and let them imprison him. If he had someone with him he trusted to have his back a little more unconditionally than Rex, he might bring it up with Senator Mon Mothma and ask that someone be brought in to replace him. She would grill him relentlessly without someone there to vouch for him and twist his words to use against him. Politicians loved villains and he had no doubt she would make one of him given the chance to do so. There was no love lost between the two of them at all.

Kallus briefly contemplated going to Rex, but discounted the idea quickly. Rex did not know about the affair: everyone present at each of the incidents had conspired to keep everyone who hadn’t been there in the dark. Rex would react as poorly as the senator, if not worse.

With a sigh, he gave up standing there and decided to head back to his room and try to sleep. 

The shape of the building forced him to take a circular path downward around the shrine in the center. Vader had taken to meditating there, and even the bold, daring members of Rebel Alliance didn’t dare interrupt him at that. At this hour the halls were empty, but Kallus was still careful to walk silently on the ruby and gold marble slabs, made easier with on bare feet that glided easily over the cold stone. The shapes were purely geometric: rectangles within rectangles within rectangles. Shined to a polish, he found them oddly hypnotic to watch as he approached the luxurious quarters assigned to him.

Down here, it was easy to remember how ancient the temple was: the lack of technology in the hallways made it blatantly clear. It smelled old in the sleeping quarters section: Kallus could detect the scent of wood, of linen, and the absence of sterility and droids that were a necessity in a high-tech environment. The ornate door to his room was a wood native to the planet and found in the trees in the gardens surrounding the temple. It heavy, and on thick hinges, it locked with a key. Kallus unlocked it, pushed it open and closed. 

Thrawn's presence was quickly obvious, though Kallus couldn’t yet see where he was in the room. His lover — ex-lover — filled up a room with his presence like he was born to command the galaxy. It was the same as every other time they’d been in a room together. Even with Vader present, Thrawn's aura of command authority drew attention and nearly upstaged his commander’s — despite said CO being a Sith Lord.

Kallus was tempted to swallow the key after locking the door so no one could bother them for the rest of their lives; instead, he left it in the lock to make it harder to pick. After taking a very deep breath to gather himself, Kallus turned to tell Thrawn to get the hell out of his rooms. Or so he had intended. It wasn’t what he wanted to do.

Honestly, he wasn't too shocked when he instead snarled, "What the kriff are you doing in here?"

In the middle of his white- and sapphire-tiled quarters was an elaborate pile of extremely comfortable cushions and pillows covering the galaxy's softest mattress. The whole affair was sunken slightly into the floor and surrounded by several layers of mostly transparent blue and gold curtains that sort of offered privacy. Thrawn was in the middle of the bed, in the dark room: Kallus spotted him only because he opened his eyes. 

"Waiting to speak to you," he explained calmly, sitting up and watching as Kallus removed his boots, jacket, and belt.

Annoyed at the presumption he would want to talk to him, angry that Thrawn was correct and was here, frustrated with his relief that the other male had solved the problem of whether to speak with him or not and approached him, Kallus stalked to the bed and sat down in the pillow pile with an annoyed grunt.

"You shouldn’t be here." Kallus scolded him, voice quiet, but firm in his anger. "Not after Lothal."

This close to the large window he could see Thrawn's face. The Chiss was in the wrong and knew what he did — whether under orders or not — was _morally abysmal_. A glance at his face made it clear that Thrawn was aware that he was not going to find forgiveness tonight.

"I know," Thrawn said after he looked away, "but that doesn't make me want to see you any less, Alexsandr."

Of course, there was always the chance that Thrawn wasn’t looking for forgiveness. Kallus sighed and rubbed a hand over his face. Silence grew thick and heavy between them until Kallus snapped and crawled across the bed. He had given up so much for both sides. Lost so much for both sides. 

"I know," he groused as he pushed Thrawn to lie down. Kallus could see he was only wearing a thin pair of white sleeping pants that were a gift from the Human because of how sheer they were. Everything was visible in them without underwear and Kallus felt his jaw drop. Not once had he forgotten how perfect Thrawn looked in those. It took every ounce of willpower he had to only strip to his underwear and wrap himself around Thrawn instead of mouthing his cock through the pants. The embrace was immediately returned.

Every muscle in his body relaxed and he felt Thrawn's do the same. The irritating reality was that this was what he had needed for weeks: to touch Thrawn, to be touched by him, and to know _his_ Thrawn was still somewhere in there. Thrawn was mortal, and just as redeemable as Kallus was. Kallus needed to know that: not just believe it.

Why his brain decided to communicate that with his lips Kallus couldn’t fathom. His head tilted up before he could stop it, and both of them moved instinctually. The first brush of their lips was like bacta on a burn he didn’t know he’d sustained, and Kallus could have wept at the relief it brought him to know their lips still fit together exactly as he remembered. Thrawn tasted and felt the same as before, and was determinedly taking charge of the kissing, rolling Kallus to his back and memorizing the layout of his mouth as he had a thousand times before. Fingers clenched tight in Thrawn’s hair to prevent him from stopping or going far. It had been months since the last time they kissed and Kallus wanted to drown in his mouth before Thrawn found another sensation to overwhelm him with.

Thrawn must have felt similarly: he took Kallus’s face in his hands and changed the angle to deepen the kiss. The feel of his tongue sliding into Kallus’s mouth was so perfect and familiar that the only thing keeping him from breaking down over it was focusing on sucking on Thrawn’s tongue instead. It drew a moan out of him — it always did — and Kallus was happy to muffle that sound with his mouth. He would swallow any sounds Thrawn cared to make tonight if he didn’t have to be parted from the man. 

Save for air, perhaps. Thrawn managed to pull back. For a moment, Kallus feared he would gain control over himself and come to his senses. He desperately didn’t want him to do that. “Please,” he gasped, giving Thrawn’s hair a gentle tug, “please.”

A quiet groan filled the air between them for a moment as Thrawn surrendered, then claimed Kallus’s lips again in another kiss. It was more desperate than the first, far more full of emotion than any kiss Kallus could ever recall them sharing as whatever they were before Grand Admiral Thrawn caught Agent Kallus mid-betrayal. Both of them had so much they needed to communicate to the other: time together lost, apologies for wrongs committed, a wealth of feelings they dared not speak aloud. The _‘I think I’m actually in love with you,’_ on the tip of Kallus’s tongue couldn’t escape his mouth, because if it was overheard by anybody else, he knew he would probably going to be executed by the side that saved him from execution in the first place.

He missed the mental sparring, the friendly bantering over tactics, the easy camaraderie they shared as much as he had missed the physical benefits of their relationship. Kallus tried to say it with the way he slid his hands through Thrawn’s hair. When he felt warm thumbs slide over his cheekbones, he felt certain Thrawn understood.

“I want you,” Thrawn murmured when he had to pull away again. “Alexsandr, I _missed you._ ” Thankfully, he didn’t go far. Kallus glided his hands from his scalp down over his neck and shoulders as they rested their foreheads together. 

“I want you too.” Kallus was honest. They kept stealing little kisses from each other, small pecks on the lips, slightly longer kisses that stole Kallus’s breath, quick nips of each other’s lips. “I want you inside me, Thrawn. I need to feel you again — properly.”

Quiet swearing in Cheunh was usually a turn-on. This time was no different. Thrawn nipped at his jawline, and mouthed at his throat. “I know,” he whispered into Kallus’s ear. One blue hand slid beneath the pillow next to Kallus’s head. “I know.”

Lube was in Thrawn’s hand when it emerged: he wanted to laugh with joy at the realization that Thrawn remembered where Kallus habitually kept it. “You’re an arrogant, presumptuous—” His whispered tirade was stopped by a mouth on his, and Thrawn aligning their hips so he could rock against Kallus most effectively. It only took his lover a moment to steal his breath completely away.

“Fuck!” he gasped when Thrawn pulled away to remove their remaining clothing.

“Getting there, Alexsandr.” Efficiency and effectiveness: those two characteristics that Kallus still couldn’t help but respect and value in others were shown off by his lover when he stripped them both in quick, smooth motions. They took a single moment to look each other over — the phrase _“a sight for sore eyes”_ sprung to mind — and then Thrawn was stretching back against him and only the warmth of his skin and the solidity of his body mattered.

Kallus was grateful he was thorough in bathing that morning after he got himself off. It was nowhere near as grateful as he felt for the slick fingers heading right for his hole as they kissed again. He took the lube from Thrawn so he could slick his lover’s cock himself. Too much time had passed since Kallus had been allowed to even glimpse it, let alone properly handle it, nor has he had a chance to feel and appreciate the weight of it again. Kallus took his time with it, stroking it with a light touch that had Thrawn pulling away to pant against his lips as he worked two fingers inside him. It took Thrawn next to no time prepare his lover’s body and within a few minutes he had the Human beneath him ready and writhing. Squeezing Thrawn’s cock to let him know that he was beyond prepared for this got the point across: the fingers came out and Thrawn was moving to take him. 

It was the first push in that made Kallus see white for a moment: that moment when the girth of Thrawn’s cock was too much and exactly enough as he pressed in, and it turned out he remembered the exact angle to glide the whole of it over Kallus’s prostate. His lips fell open in a wordless, near-silent moan, as though the full-body tremor produced by the pleasure of finally being taken again robbed his body of the ability of the ability to commit to more than one obvious physical reaction. Typically, his eyes would fall shut, and his hands would find their way to Thrawn’s shoulders.

This time, Kallus’s hands were locked into the bed sheets and he found himself unable to look away from his lover’s eyes until Thrawn was fully sheathed inside him.

There was no way he would last long. His cock was leaking onto his belly already, and Thrawn’s face was already strained. When he managed to pry his fingers from the sheets, Kallus reached down between them, to trace around where they were joined. Thrawn’s choked-off moan made him smirk, and he found his hand swiftly grabbed — fingers interlaced with Thrawn’s as they were pinned by his head — and his lips quickly claimed in a demanding kiss that didn’t last nearly long enough.

“Don’t tease tonight,” Thrawn growled out roughly when he broke the kiss.

Kallus wanted to argue back that he only needed to feel where they were connected, that he might not ever get to again after this moment, but the Chiss decided to move right then, and all thoughts of speech were quickly driven from his mind by sensation. Pleasure — easy, uncomplicated bliss — was delivered to him first in slow, shallow thrusts as Thrawn tried to maintain control and make it last. 

It wasn’t going to, though: Kallus’s prediction was right. Not when this was the first time they’d been together in months. Kallus tugged his mouth down for a searingly hot kiss and hissed at him, “Get on with it, Thrawn, and fuck the memory of your body into me so I can never forget it again.” 

Thrawn snapped, exactly like he wanted him too. Kallus was fucked with fast, deep strokes of the thick cock he missed for far too long, was kissed by the mouth he missed for far too many reasons. They kept each other quiet with desperate kisses, save for a moment where Kallus groaned Thrawn’s name into his neck when he spilled between them. Thrawn growled his name into his ear when he finished inside Kallus, their fingers still interlaced.

Kallus saw white when Thrawn took him. He saw stars in the afterglow. 

Neither of them moved to do anything besides trade lazy kisses until Thrawn was soft enough that his cock slid out on its own. He move to get a towel so they didn’t stain their hosts’ elaborate pillows (Kallus was sure fucking in another sacred temple had probably fucked up their collective karma enough), and cleaned his lover well. Kallus helped him dress — any excuse to touch Thrawn more right now was a good excuse — and was glad he originally had on a long tunic over the translucent pants. It was not a view Kallus wanted to share with anyone else.

The kiss goodbye as he snuck him out was painful.

It had nothing on the crushing wave of guilt that struck as soon as the door was shut.


	2. Omit, Oil, Orgasm

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kallus had never been afraid of his own heart before.

Dreams and guilt mixed together to haunt Kallus for the rest of the night. In half his dreams he was by Thrawn's side as his lover wiped out established Alliance bases on Ansarra and Mapuzo, watching with a strange fusion of pride and horror from the forward viewport as his lover massacred populaces they had both taken oaths to protect. He watched with a vague sense of loss and mixed loyalties as Thrawn was given the dubious honor of executing his friends. When Thrawn took him to bed later that evening in the privacy of their shared quarters, murmuring sweet words to him as he moved inside the human, Kallus felt more powerful than remorseful or guilty. His lover brought death with him if His Majesty willed it and so few were truly immune to His wrath. 

Every one of those dreams ended with Thrawn ruling the Empire with Kallus at his side and Palpatine dead by Vader’s hand.

Though it was painful to know he could have saved lives by speaking up, another common thread throughout those dreams was the thought of angering his lover and being put in the brig for it or sent away was too terrible. Being at Thrawn's side made him feel at peace. _Content, _for the first time in a long time, dream-Kallus found himself willing to go along with morally questionable acts to hold onto that feeling though he would not commit them himself. Necessary though it was, their separation felt like a physical wound: like an ache in his chest that was reminiscent of the way the old blaster wound on his left hip felt when rain was coming. Their separation left within him an ever-present, simmering anger that kept him motivated to help end the war.__

__In the rest of his dreams, he was at peace. Thrawn was by his side again, but they were part of the Rebellion. Happiness, nearly a foreign emotion, filled him. Kallus was elated to have Thrawn fight by his side. Grand Admiral Thrawn's betrayal of the Emperor brought a good portion of the Seventh Fleet’s personnel, enough to really put the Empire on the defensive. His brilliance turned the fortunes of war in the Alliance's favor as soon as High Command trusted him enough to accept his information and advice. With his guidance, they were able to capture Imperial ships instead of merely destroying them and quickly amass a much larger fleet than they presently possessed._ _

__Those dreams ended with Thrawn heavily involved in leading the Republic, eventually taking command of the military, helping to guide political decisions, and mentoring those who would come after them._ _

__Never did Kallus have to feel conflicted, save for a few underhanded actions as an assassin and spy the Alliance asked him to commit during the course of war. Either side would have him do things he would rather not have to do, but none of the Alliance’s requests were part of a condition to remain with his lover._ _

__It was clear that his dreams were presenting him with two possible options to stay with his lover. One was easy and would take no convincing. Kallus would never be happy, but he would be guaranteed to have Thrawn at the cost of his family and everything he believed in. The other path was one he would have to fight for if nothing came out of this summit. Convincing Thrawn to betray the Emperor sounded like an impossible task. Thrawn might agree only to crush the Rebellion and steal Kallus away. But if he didn’t. If he didn’t—_ _

__Kallus had never been afraid of his own heart before._ _

__Letting Thrawn touch him again was a mistake: that much was clear. Kallus knew he shouldn’t have slept with Thrawn. He shouldn’t have allowed him to touch as he pleased, to take him again for the first time in months, to kiss him or hold him, or cum inside him and mark Kallus as his again._ _

__How was he supposed to resist when he knew that he was head-over-heels in love with the man who destroyed Lothal?_ _

__For most sentients, the very fact that Thrawn was guilty of mass murder would be enough to put them off. Most sentients, Kallus knew, were good beings. Most of them weren’t even guilty of theft. Kallus, like Thrawn, was guilty of multiple incidents of mass murder. Unlike Thrawn, however, he was also guilty of genocide. Kallus was complicit in the genocide of his own _best friend’s_ entire race, save for a handful of individuals. He had far more blood on his hands than Thrawn did, frankly, and if either of them should be disgusted to be with the other based on morals alone it wasn’t Kallus. _ _

__No, Thrawn’s morals and beliefs were not a deal-breaker, especially not now that he knew _his_ Thrawn was still in there. That caring, loving man was still there, and if he was still there then he could be reached._ _

__If Kallus was caught trying to draw him out, he might be jailed and tried for treason, but the potential gain, for himself and the Alliance, was worth the risk._ _

__A shuddering sigh — the after-effects of crying — escaped him as the first signs of daylight lit up the sky in brilliant hues of green outside his window. His heart was no longer torn between his political allegiance and Thrawn. If Thrawn came to him again, if he asked for Kallus to join him, the Rebel knew what he would do. Despite circumstances being what they were, he knew what he wanted. Kallus only needed to have faith that it would work out._ _

____

*

Morning meal at the temple was a time for each group to meet and discuss strategy, to go over their thoughts on the proceedings, and to affirm their stance on the topics to be discussed. Mon needed their support: she needed to hear she was doing the right thing in even sitting down with Vader's faction. If even one of them could feel validated in their decisions, if Kallus could help bring about peace of mind for someone, he was more than happy to do that.

More than once during the conversation his mind wandered back to his dreams and he couldn’t help but wonder how this would go if it was Thrawn negotiating on behalf of the Alliance instead of Mon. He thought it likely that Vader and Thrawn would have begun with a conversation about how their task would be accomplished and planned the entire thing before even beginning these political negotiations. Negotiating to see if they could even negotiate was nearly the dumbest waste of time Kallus had ever heard of: unfortunately for them, Mon refused to be swayed no matter how much or how loudly anyone else tried to argue.

The mid-morning break was a welcome one. Kallus contemplated finding a quiet corner in which he could take a nap. Just as he made up his mind on where to go hide Rex threw a friendly arm around his shoulders and calmly — but firmly — steered him outside. There was a pleasant, cool breeze that caught the scent of the plants in the gardens. He sneezed, but otherwise enjoyed the wind and sun on his face. Feeling warm again was nice, though sunlight on his bare skin was a poor mimicry of the warmth of Thrawn's body heat against him.

Kallus's shoulders slightly slumped at the silent comparison. _Tonight, perhaps,_ he told himself despite knowing he shouldn't allow it if Thrawn returned: nor should he hold out hope. They needed to talk, not fuck.

_Rebellions are built on hope._ He reminded himself of Jyn Erso's impassioned speech and the words that had prompted Hera, several months pregnant and near-to-bursting with Jacen, to prep the _Ghost_ and her crew and head for Scarif. The words had become the Alliance's mantra. It had gotten the Fleet through the rest of the Battle of Scarif when the Death Star and Death Squadron had shown up to the fight. It had pulled them through the defeat of the Death Star, through Vader running them off of a few different bases, and — _damnit!_ — it could get Kallus through this.

Prudence, not comfort, was the reason he rested his arms on the balcony’s edge and leaned over to look into the bush-lined labyrinth below. Rex didn’t need to see the shoulder slump for what it was. Once or twice he'd heard Ezra and Sabine joke that being the adopted grandpa gave him magical powers when it came to reading people. The old clone had rightly laughed it off as experience. Kallus had made a living of reading other sentients for nearly two decades: it took a lot of experience and training to be good at it, but intuition helped a hell of a lot.

The kids were probably on to something. 

“When did you realize?” Rex asked. His tone was measured, guarded in a way that told Kallus Rex wasn’t sure if this was a topic that was okay to bring up with the other man. Keeping his posture relaxed was almost impossible. If Rex had been a Jedi, or had Zeb’s nose, Kallus would be fucked already; instead, two decades spent working for the Imperial Security Bureau saved his skin.

Below them, in the labyrinth, he could see Thrawn walking side-by-side with his flagship's new captain as Rukh followed close behind. Gilad Pellaeon was an excellent man, utterly devoted to the Navy, and about as stubborn as a Human could get without becoming a Chiss. Of all people to captain his flagship, Pellaeon was an interesting choice. Had Thrawn selected him, or had it been Vader, or Tarkin? Rumors had long said the man never passed up the chance to have an affair (particularly with a gorgeous woman), that he was sharp tongued and quite vocal about his opinions, and Pellaeon had enough respect for rank to voice his opinions to his COs no matter how insane he thought they were. Reason said he and Thrawn must butt heads on a regular basis.

One would never think it to watch them now: they were having an animated discussion about something, though he couldn’t hear what. Voices don’t seem to carry far in the temple and it held true for being outside as well. Trying not to look like a man pining — trying not to look like he wished to join them — Kallus watched them.

Rex watched him. 

Aloud, he said, “What do you mean?” and turned his head to look at Rex as the older man came up next to him.

“When did you realize you were in love with someone you shouldn’t want? You’ve had that look about you for the last couple of days, but it’s been far more obvious this morning.” Rex looked far too sympathetic — sounded far too sympathetic — to not know what he was talking about. He had to give the man credit for catching him out on that: and for doing it without being an ass about it or demanding answers.

Quietly exhaling, Kallus turned around and ran a hand through his unruly hair. “Not long,” he admitted as he leaned against the marble rail. His elbows rested atop it. “And yet for months. The change is that I quit denying it last night.”

“What happened?”

If he couldn’t bring himself to tell Rex he slept with Thrawn while he was still a willing double agent, he definitely wasn’t going to tell Rex the truth of what happened _last night_. A set of grey and gold tiles that formed a tree with a single, ruby fruit on the highest branch drew his attention. “It’s something I’ve been working through for a while now. We had so much time off last night that I suppose I was able to finally handle a lot of the issue.” Kallus didn’t let himself smirk at the pun when he glanced at Rex, but only just. 

Rex’s dark eyes narrowed at him as though he could somehow detect the existence of both the pun and the desire to smirk at it. Then something in his look changed and he was reminded of every scolding Rex had ever given him. For half a heartbeat he panicked, terrified he'd been caught out. Only when Rex's expression softened — did it have to be the affectionate one the clone used only with his family? — and he spoke again did Kallus relax.

“If it’s unrequited it’s best left alone. You know that as well as anybody else, Alex.”

“It isn’t unrequited, Rex. That’s the problem. This person is just as devoted to me as I am to them.” It hurt him to say it, to admit his own devotion aloud, so he stared at the mosaic on the wall. That the symbolism of forbidden fruit was right there as they were having this conversation was irritating. Was this temple sentient like the one on Lothal? Was Kallus being taunted by a building?

Rex rubbed a hand over his bald head and sighed. “Sounds like you’re right karked.”

Kallus laughed softly: both at Rex’s statement and that the color of the fruit had changed to sapphire as he watched. It appeared he was being taunted by a building. “That sums it up neatly, yes.”

“It happened to me a couple of times. I’ve listened to my heart and regretted it. I’ve listened to my heart and been rewarded.” _But were any of them enemy officers?_ Kallus didn’t ask. Couldn’t ask. _Wouldn’t_ ask. Doing so would give him away immediately.He ached to join Thrawn down below as he turned back around. There were so many hiding places in the garden where he might be ravished — and quickly — by his lover. Or, even better, where they might find five minutes to hold each other close and breathe each other in. That would enough to get him through the day. The bell signaling the start of the day’s negotiations interrupted his thoughts: it was time to go inside and begin the next round. Kallus would have to push on as he had these last several months: with iron self-control, and by willfully ignoring his own wants and needs.

*

It wasn’t as difficult to see Thrawn today as he feared it would be, but it was still a hardship to sit across a narrow negotiating table from him and pretend he wanted to do anything other than climb into the grand admiral’s lap. Kallus yearned, and did his damndest to keep the emotion at bay in front of the Sith Lord. Thrawn helped take the edge off the ache by pressing his bare feet to Kallus’s. Hotter than human skin on his was entirely familiar and relaxing. It was also daring: if Rex’s or Pellaeon’s foot bumped his, or Vader’s leg shifted too far toward Thrawn, they would know that he and Thrawn were playing footsie under the table. The knowledge of what was likely an inevitable discovery didn’t deter Kallus, though he couldn’t help noticing neither of them were so bold as to bring their feet above the other’s knees.

They were still carefully not looking at each other across the table except to glare or snap at each other when delivering verbal blows.

Vader, eventually fed up enough to say something about their bickering, muttered something about couples’ counseling, and earned a look from both of them cold enough to bring a full minute of heart-stopping silence to the room. Out of the corner of his eye he thought he saw Vader’s new assistant actually kick him for it, but couldn’t be bothered to care.

As Thrawn drew breath to speak, Mon Mothma politely called for the mid-day break. No one argue with her: everyone, including Vader, readily agreed to a two hour break. Vader held Thrawn back a moment as everyone else — save his surprisingly brave assistant — practically fled the room. After exchanging a heated glance with Thrawn, he left the room as well. Kallus stomped back to his room after brushing off the concern from his fellow Rebels with assurances that he only needed some time to cool off. He wasn’t angry with Thrawn at all, but keeping up appearances was important: and the sooner he got back to his room, the sooner he could let in his expected visitor.

Thrawn slipped in through the window he opened for him five minutes after Kallus locked and barricaded the heavy door to the hallway. As soon as the Human closed and locked the window and pulled the heavy curtain partially shut Kallus found himself pinned to a wall out of sight of the window for a hard kiss. It was hot enough that for a moment Kallus had a ridiculous idea in his head that that he would melt from the heat of the kiss alone and become one with the wall. _How stupid!_ he chided himself as Thrawn fucked his mouth with his tongue and long, warm fingers made a further mess of his hair. _Any minute now, I'm going to be joined with Thrawn._

“Bed?” he suggested when they pull apart to gasp in air. It was where the lube was. He refused to be taken dry when they had time enough for a luxurious mid-afternoon fuck.

“I brought lube,” Thrawn informed him as he pulled off Kallus's layers of embroidered tunics, then turned him around. His own were shrugged off and cast to the floor on top of Kallus’s, and then Thrawn tugged down the loose pants his lover wore. Their hosts had been quite thoughtful to provide them with such comfortable clothing that could be removed in a hurry. His pants and underwear dropped to the floor and Kallus stepped out of them and kicked them away. Thrawn was doing the same behind him, and then he heard the _click_ of the lube’s cap opening.

It was a small, green, glass tube with a white flip-top lid, and Kallus knew it had to be the second he smelled something almost like a cross between the dried, pink tree bark of his mother’s homeworld and the rare, expensive spices his father had so loved cooking with before he had passed away: this was the expensive stuff Thrawn kept somehow getting from Csilla of which Kallus had desperately missed the smell and feel. The quality of the lube was high enough that it took very little at all. It was far more water soluble than the stuff the rebellion had in stock, and safe to use with or without any type of condoms.

(He and Thrawn had spent hours on a rare day off conducting a Very Serious Scientific Investigation. They'd tested the Chiss stuff against the most expensive, highest rated brand the rest of the galaxy had to offer, and against the cheapest condoms they could find. The hideous condoms sick bay issued, whatever Kallus had found on Lothal: the Chiss stuff made all of them pleasurable or far more pleasurable. It had been some of the best sex of his life: enough to make him forget they were at war, and Thrawn was meant to be his enemy. He'd forgotten for hours longer when they had decided to try it without protection. If they had ever bothered using condoms again after that, Kallus honestly couldn't recall.)

Smelling it was enough to make him eagerly moan and turn his head to look back at Thrawn. Seeing him there there was almost enough to make him forget that anything else in the galaxy exists. “Please,” he begged, studying what he could see of his face as he pushed his hips back and spread his legs.

A groan was buried in his neck as Thrawn’s slick hand reached down and two fingers penetrated him easily. “You’ve always been so good at opening up for me,” Thrawn breathed into his skin. A hot mouth sucked a bruise into the skin of his neck. His breath felt hotter than normal, as though it could burn the words into his skin. Kallus whimpered at the thought, at the words, at the sensation, at knowing Thrawn was laying claim to him again. Striving to be good at this for Thrawn had lead to the best sex of his life: Thrawn had ruined him for other people. 

“Only for you,” Kallus confessed to the wall of the temple and heard Thrawn shudder behind him. 

“Fuck,” Thrawn hissed. "You mean that, don't you?"

He did. That was part of the problem. It was a huge part of the problem. It was an unfortunately large part of why he didn’t let Bridger pull him out, despite what he had told the boy at the time. It was why he kept letting Thrawn fuck him when they ran into each other. It was why they were fucking for the second time since they arrived on this planet despite all of Kallus’s seething rage for his lover. For his _love_. 

"Yes," he admitted in a whisper that was chased from his lips by a moan. Thrawn was scissoring him open in such a way that the back of his knuckles pressed right over his prostate.

Thrawn having ruined him was an old problem, and he stopped worrying about it at exactly the moment Thrawn spun him around and picked him up to fuck him against the wall. They lasted all of ten minutes at the brutal pace Thrawn set. The cold marble against his back barely even registered through the sheer pleasure of having Thrawn's hot, thick cock gliding in and out of him with ease.

Save for grunts, moans, and gasps, they were quiet as they made love this time. It was obvious to both of them that the other man was desperately seeking out relief via their body. Kallus tangled his hands in Thrawn's hair and let himself be used. Reveling in the sensation was the easiest thing to do: all that was necessary is to allow the little kisses and marks, and wait for Thrawn’s orgasm to hit.

All it took to get Kallus to cum, untouched, was the knowledge that Thrawn was leaving his load inside him. The noises he made were needy, pathetic, little sounds that he was sure he had only ever made for Thrawn. No one else who had ever had the power to leave him like this had had the drive to actually do it. No one else had ever been so damn desperate to cover him in marks, in cum, to give him as much pleasure as physically possible in the process of seeking his own.

Kallus let Thrawn carry him to the refresher as well. He was carefully and tenderly cleaned up and cleaned out before they stopped kissing under the spray and stepped out. Kallus dried Thrawn in an attempt to get him aroused again: a mood Thrawn killed when he pointed out they didn’t have the time right now. They were expected back at the negotiating table in just under an hour. 

Instead, they dressed, and spent most of the remaining time curled up in each other’s arms while engaged in an animated discussion regarding the mosaics of the temple. The way the art seemed to change while one was looking right at it was still bothering Kallus and he wanted to talk to someone else about it. It was a safe topic. It was a step toward normalcy. It was a step toward bringing Thrawn to his side.

It made Kallus crave more all-too desperately.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It’s been a while, huh? I think I got all the typos. Feel free to point to them and tell me if I didn’t. I write in first person and then edit it to third. It works for me.

**Author's Note:**

> Canon and I have a long history of ignoring each other. I hope enjoyed it. This was the shortest chapter ever. The next two of this story will be a lot longer and take me a good deal more time to put out. I’ve been trained on a new thing at work and only have two weeks to master it before I get in trouble for mistakes and I am finishing up my probationary period on top of it, so it’s been busy, busy, busy for me.


End file.
